Page 34 of My Best Years

“Then don’t.”

I put him out of his misery by sealing my lips to his.

I push him back until his spine thumps against the sand. With me on top of him, we kiss for hours, absolutely starved for one another.

I’m not sure when we fell asleep, but I woke up in Callum’s arms to the sun's golden hue peeking over the horizon.

I woke up to a new day where Callum wasn't just my friend but the keeper of my soul. His name forever tattooed on the flesh of my beating heart.

Who would’ve known that the boy who stole my heart at eight years old would rip open my chest and replace it with his almost ten years later?

THIRTEEN

Birdie

Present Day

After running into Callum at Coastal Market, I swore I would never come back to this grocery store again. But it’s my day off, and after working three back-to-back, twelve-hour shifts, I don’t have the energy to deal with Walmart today. The local market is small and easy to navigate. I can be in and out in less than twenty minutes.

Besides, it’s been two weeks since Callum last showed up at my work. Maybe he’s finally taken a hint and realized I’m not interested in listening to his lies. It’s a little too late for that.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he had the audacity to show up at my work—not once, but twice—and then demand that I speak with him. Callum needs a serious reality check if he thinks I owe him a second of my time.

I just don’t get it. In over a decade, he hasn’t reached out to me once. And then, he sees me in the middle of a grocery store and decides it’s time for his apology tour.

Honestly, that’s more insulting than anything else. It’s as if after years of ghosting me, he and his dick liked what they saw and won’t take no for an answer. Typical men…always thinking with their cocks instead of their brains.

Unfortunately for him, I don’t give a shit what he has to say anymore. He can go and spew his lies to someone else.

Deciding to get my mind off Callum, I grab a shopping cart, put in my earbuds, start a podcast, and head into the store. I’ve done enough moping around, blankly staring at walls, and overthinking my exchange with Callum over the past couple of weeks. I’m tired of giving him rent-free space in my heart and mind.

I open the notes app on my phone and head straight for the produce aisle.

Twenty-five minutes later, I’m walking toward my car with a full cart of groceries. My lips are curved up in a pleased smile because there’s something so satisfying about having your grocery list checked off for the week.

The sun is shining, there’s not a cloud in the sky, and I haven’t thought about Callum Pierce in approximately…twenty-five minutes.

Better than nothing, I suppose.

Even though scrubs are pretty damn comfortable, I’m thankful to be in regular clothes today. I’m wearing black biker shorts paired with a lilac tank top. My hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, the long strands wavy from the salty air. It’s ninety degrees outside today, which is my kind of weather. I love the heat and feeling the sun against my skin. It feels like home.

Once I reach my car, I drop my earbuds into my purse and pop open the trunk. Winnie used to always give me shit for wearing headphones in parking lots. She would call me after a late shift, and I would usually talk to her through my earbudswhile walking to my car. She said a creep could come up behind me, and I would never know it. After watching one too many crime documentaries, I finally decided to listen to her. Especially since I’m constantly moving to cities where I’m unfamiliar with my surroundings.

I only get a few bags in the trunk before a deep voice causes my limbs to freeze.

“Can I help you with that?”

His words feel like velvet against my skin. I don't know if I could ever get used to his older, husky voice. If I didn’t loathe him so much, I might pay him a pretty penny to read me the dictionary.

I slowly turn my head to the right to find Callum standing an arm’s length away. His body language is stiff with nerves.

Jesus Christ.

This has to be a fucking joke.

But what’s not a joke, unfortunately, is how infuriatingly good he looks today…

He’s wearing a simple pair of tan shorts and a white linen shirt. His onyx hair is pushed back on the sides and messier on the top. The dark strands glisten under the sun, still looking wet from a shower or a swim. He’s wearing a pair of round sunglasses that shade his sapphire eyes.

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